"It's plain and simple," Henry stated, leaning over the strategy table. "We can't defeat the dragon with just us, and the people of this village are defenseless otherwise. We need to send for help."

  "I disagree, old boy," Arthur interjected. "The dragon is a clear and present danger right now. We can't bank on it sitting in there for much longer before it decides to venture out."

  "And what do you suppose we do? Go back and try to fight it again?"

  "Yes. But we need a plan." Arthur crossed his arms. "We didn't know what we'd run into last time, and now we know. And we'll all go together this time."

  "You don't understand," Lyla said. "That thing is too strong. A score of us couldn't defeat it. What hope do the five of us have?"

  "The element of surprise, perhaps." Rebecca tentatively looked up. She eyed Henry for a fraction of a second before continuing. "You'll have magic this time, magic to counter whatever madness is going on. Between myself and Diana, we can counter whatever the necromancer is casting long enough for you to handle the dragon itself."

  Diana frowned. "I'm afraid I still need to retrieve the relic. My fight is not with the dragon, and I agree that it's too powerful for our company."

  "Well, we can't just turn tail and run!" Arthur cried. "By the time we come back, there may not be a village left to save."

  "And we can't just confront it head on, either," Henry retorted. "Plan or not, this dragon is way out of our league. The undead alone, we might be able to resolve, but a whole dragon?"

  The party squabbled amongst themselves; Henry, Diana, and Lyla argued riding out for help from the greater Regency, whilst Arthur and Rebecca argued to face the dragon. Their voices grew into a crescendo as they became louder and louder, until the squire seized a momentary relapse in the din to cut in.

  "There's a clear majority," Henry finally remarked, breaking through the chatter. "We need to call for help. Even with a makeshift militia, the village is no match for this dragon."

  "I don't believe this." Arthur shook his head. "Why are you so insistent on running for help?"

  "Because the Codex states that-"

  "Forget the Codex!" The knight-apprentice's voice was beyond exasperated. "You're a Knight, aren't you? These people clearly need defending, and leaving them defenseless while we run is about as cowardly as it can get!"

  "Then what do you propose? Another foolhardy charge into the dragon's lair? Lose someone else like you lost Praetorus?"

  Arthur's face visibly cracked at that remark. "Damn you, Henry. You think I don't regret running already?"

  Guilt stung Henry inside; his emotions had gotten the better of him yet again. "Sorry. I only meant-"

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  "I won't run again." Arthur looked at him, his face stoic. "I may be the first Braddock to quit the battlefield. But I certainly won't be the first to stay off of it before the fight's done."

  A loud knock at the door made them all jump.

  Lyla cautiously drew her sword and stepped over to the door's side. She called out, her voice as strong as steel. "Who's there?"

  "Praetorus." The voice was muffled behind the thick wooden door, but recognizable nonetheless.

  They froze; Arthur's eyes bugged out of his head as he turned as pale as a sheet.

  Henry loped over to the door and cracked it open. Indeed, the archer stood at the doorstep, his cloak and clothes tattered and torn. His left arm hung limply at his side, and a thin stream of blood was running down the side of his face; his expression was one of utter weariness, though he still tried to mask it behind his characteristic stoicism.

  He staggered as he took one step, then swooned; Henry quickly caught him, then threw his right arm over his shoulder and helped him into the keep. The others rushed over, as Arthur took Praetorus' other arm over his neck and assisted the pair to a nearby table. They gingerly set the archer down on the seat, as Diana and Rebecca quickly began cleaning and dressing his bleeding wounds.

  "Praetorus!" Arthur's voice wavered with shock. "Y-you survived! How... how did you know where to find us?"

  The archer winced with pain as Rebecca wiped a cut on his arm with a rag doused in stinging alcohol. "I was fortunate. And I am a tracker, remember?"

  He reached into the pouch on his belt, pulling out a small golden cup; it was plain, unadorned with any jewelry or markings, but it seemed to glow in the firelight of the hall. He handed it to Diana, who took the cup in confusion.

  "I did not leave empty-handed," Praetorus panted out. "I believe you were searching for this."

  "This..." Diana's eyes widened with shock. "'The Hallowed Chalice'?" I..." She put a hand on Praetorus' shoulder. "I thank you, noble ranger. As does my Order and the Lady."

  Praetorus' head sank as he laid down on the bench, exhaustion overwhelming him.

  Diana looked at the cup in her hands for a moment more, before she tucked it into her belt. "Lyla, is there a space here where I can treat him? Arthur, Henry, I'll need your help moving him as well."

  Lyla nodded. "We've the medic's room. I'll show you."

  Rebecca looked up from her work binding Praetorus' wounds. "I can help as well, Diana."

  "Thank you Rebecca, but I need to focus completely. His wounds are deep, and his pulse fades; I can ill afford any distractions, even well-intentioned ones."

  Henry and Arthur lifted Praetorus' arms over their shoulders and made ready to follow Lyla down a corridor. The archer suddenly jerked his arms, his eyes wide.

  "He is coming." Everyone looked at him, bewildered. Praetorus repeated it once more, his voice hoarse. "He is coming."

  And with that, he slumped back in the boys' arms, passed out.

  "This way." Lyla rushed down a corridor, closely followed by the others. As they reached the medic's room, Henry and Arthur gently laid Praetorus onto the bed, while Diana began rummaging through the drawers and cabinets for ingredients to concoct something.

  "Arthur." Praetorus' voice was weak, barely audible as he rasped it out.

  Arthur knelt beside him and took his hand. "I'm sorry, old boy. I didn't mean-"

  "No... need." The archer managed a weak grin. "Payback... for the wyvern."

  "Thank you, all of you," Diana murmured, quickly mixing some liquid into a small bowl of powder. "I need space and privacy. One of you stand watch outside please, in case I need something."

  She ushered everyone out of the small room and shut the door. They were left in the hallway, confused as to what had all just transpired.

  "He made it back," Henry said, relieved and amazed.

  "And from what he said, he's not alone," Lyla remarked. "What do we do now?"

  "Now, we draw straws as to who stands watch here first," Arthur sniffed. "I'd volunteer, but..."

  Lyla rolled her eyes. "Spare me. I'll take first watch. You lot go and decide what to do next."

  "Don't you want a say in this as well?" Henry asked.

  "I've made up my mind. If it's coming as he said, then we can't just abandon this town." She put her hands on her hips. "That leaves us only one option."